Obviously Oblivious
by A.L.E
Summary: This is the second part of my Buffy story. It follows the first part (gee, who would of guessed that?) "Big Wig-ins". Things start to get interesting now, in Sunnydale, but why isn't anyone noticing? R+R!


This is the second part of my stroy. It follows "BigWig-ins" (which it will eventually be added to in a chapter format) and yes there will be more to come. As always reviews welcome!  
  
And once again, I do not own or make any money from references to copyrighted things in my stories.  
  
  
  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer  
  
Obviously Oblivious  
  
After having seen Dawn off to bed and finding nothing on tv, Buffy came to the conclusion that she was tired. She had been planning on some good old patrolling, to clear her head, after Willow and Tara came home. That way she could do some thinking and Dawn wouldn't be home alone. But bed was just as good of a place to think, and an even better place to sleep. That last part was what finally swayed her.  
  
Once in her bedroom, she closed the door behind her but didn't turn on the lights. She wasn't real worried at the moment about where her clothes ended up. Finding their proper place seemed like a tomorrow thing. She slid her shirt off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She could sleep in her tank top and if she just undid a couple of buttons on her jeans, they would be comfortable enough to wear to bed too. She kicked her shoes off and turned towards her bed about the same time that she got the feeling. She froze and listened. In her years of fighting the supernatural and any and all beasties that the Hellmouth could throw at her, she had learned that everything makes a noise. Even when trying to be quiet, the most silent of creeping crawlies, made some sort of noise. A hiss, a slither, a heartbeat, a faint clinking of scales, or even a rush of air. Something. They always made a sound, no one or no thing could be perfectly silent. So she listened intently to discover this particular nasty's audible slip. After a few moments, there was a metallic clink, and then the familiar sound of a lighter's flint being struck. Almost immediately, a small flame sprang up from the far corner of her room. Buffy's muscles tensed from habit, even though she knew she wouldn't need to use them, at least, not yet. She instead put her hands on her hips and fiercely whispered, "Spike! Dammit, you scared the crap outta me!" She squinted to try to get a look at his face. "You're lucky I didn't have a stake in my hand, just now. What the hell-......and I ask for the second time tonight....are you doing here?"  
  
The lighter clinked again and the flame was extinguished. Then a low growl came from the same corner. "You owe me, Slayer."  
  
Buffy sighed and took two steps back to switch on a lamp. "I owe you? Owe you what Spike....a pizza?" Her fingers finally found the lamp's switch, but when she turned it, nothing happened. If it had been anybody but Spike in her room, she would have actually been freaked. Since it was Spike, she chalked it up to an untimely burned out bulb.  
  
"You owe me an apology. That bit of kick-the-Spike you played tonight wasn't very nice."  
  
"Right, because I'm usually all Mother Theresa around you. Besides, I didn't kick you, I tripped you." She tried to make that comment sound as light hearted as she could, even though her pulse was racing and she was a little short of breath. She wasn't sure if that was due to the fact that Spike was so near her and in her bedroom, or if it was because the second lamp on her desk hadn't come on when she tried it. "Look, Spike, I'm really tired. I'm not in the mood for your.....anything. So why don't you go back to your cozy little crypt and leave me alone."She tried to make it appear as if she were actually going to bed. She stepped to it's side, as best as she could in the darkness, and rolled back the covers.  
  
The lighter lit again. "I'm not going anywhere 'til I get what I want."  
  
She paused before putting a leg onto the bed. "An apology? Ok... fine! I'm sorry. Now leave. I can't sleep in bed with you-...I..I mean. I can't go to bed with you-...I mean." She dropped her head in defeat. "Nevermind. Apparently you can't fit in my mouth with- ooooook, I'm not even gonna finish that one." She closed her eyes and sighed. "I'm tired and I want to go to bed. You better be gone by the time I open my eyes." She heard the lighter clink shut and the rustle of his jacket. She took another deep breath and opened her eyes. He was no longer in the corner. Then she felt something brush against her back, but before she could react she was grabbed by the arms and spun around. Despite the darkness, she could still make out all the prominent features of Spike's face. His blue eyes glinted, and his stark blonde hair gave him a sort of halo of lighter shadowed area above his head. She was almost sucked in by those eyes when she wrenched her arms away from him and leaned backwards until she sat on the edge of her bed. She tried to sound mad, "Spike! Do I have to throw you out?"  
  
He stood still, not making any movements. "I just decieded an apology isn't good enough. But if you want to try to throw me out, I'm up for a bit of foreplay."  
  
"Oh gross ,Spike! Is that what you get out of it, every time we fight? Some sort of sick cheap thrill? I hate to burst your perverted little bubble, but I-"  
  
"Oh don't even try to tell me you don't! You bloody well know your idea of getting hot and bothered is getting physical! And I don't mean jazz- ercising, love." He took a step towards the bed. "The day you stop liking it rough, pet, is the day the sodding world stops spinning."  
  
She laid back on her pillow, attempting to seem nonchalant, but then realized it only made her look like she was getting ready for him. To keep him from thinking the same thing, she quickly pulled the covers up over her. "Spike, right now the only thought I have is of taking something long and hard and shoving it right where it will do the most good." There was a long pause. "And if you ever tell anyone I just said that, I'll mail pieces of you to every single country on the face of the planet!" She wanted to yell at him some more, but thought it best to keep her mouth closed. For more than one reason she could think of.  
  
"So that's it then? You publicly humiliate me, offer me a half- hearted apology, then go back to treating me like dirt, as usual? Bollucks, I'm not gonna accept that."  
  
"I don't care what you accept, Spike, just get out! It's not like you care about public opinion and you are dirt! I seem to recall you admitting that, only difference is, I'm not rolling around in you-it.... anymore." She rolled over, away from him, and violently fluffed her pillow.  
  
"You know what your problem is? You've let this bloody piece of goverment tinkering in me head, make you feel safe for too long. You're not scared of me anymore."  
  
She rolled back over to look him in the eye. "Scared of you? Spike, I'm more scared of the guy who boinks the apple pie in that one movie, than I am of you. Besides, you're the one who's always professing your love for me. I don't know how vamps do it, but we humans don't frighten our objects of affection into loving us back."  
  
The blonde haired vampire lunged forward and grabbed her by the arms. His demon face sprang forth as he leaned his head in, just a couple of inches from her's. He stared into her eyes and spoke quietly, menacingly. "Just remember, pet, the chip doesn't count you as off limits anymore. The day will come again, when you tremble in my presence, Slayer. Love has many forms, and if you keep pushing me," he pushed her down into the bed to help his point, "you're gonna see the darker side of it. The side of it that will make what we did in that crumbling house look like a day at the bloody fair." He glared at her for a moment longer, before baring his fangs and growling. He then stood up and was out the door, before she could even blink.  
  
Buffy concentrated on catching her breath. She hated Spike for what he could do to her, for all the things he could do to her. She hated him so much, that she loved him. Or was that loved to hate him? She wasn't sure, but she knew she wasn't scared of his "dark love". The love she had experienced in her time was about as dark as it got. An ironic love with a vampire who had generations of blood on his hands and a summoned soul so fleeting, that the act of love itself, drives it away. A superficial love with a no-regrets, heart breaking, bastard. A love that she threw away because it came stamped "corn-fed nice guy" instead of "big bad nasty". A love from a sister that she had to kill herself to keep. A love from her friends that was demonstrated by them yanking her ,unwilling, from the best place she had ever been. And now, a love from an evil monster who loved her only because he obsessed about killing her, then couldn't. He fell in with her, and then fell in love with her. No, she wasn't scared of his so called "dark love". Was she scared of him? She didn't think so, but she found herself pulling the covers all the way up to her chin, just in case.  
  
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The next morning, Congressman Savage, once again heard a rapping at his door. "Enter," he said flatly. Agent Demario strode in with a purpose, his sunglasses already taken from his eyes and placed in the breast pocket of his dark blue suit coat. He had a small ream of paper in his left hand. He moved to stand in front of the desk, as he had the night before. The Congressman didn't even say anything to him. He just arched his eyebrow and looked at the agent expectantly  
  
"Uh, sir. We have the information from last night that you wanted." He leaned forward to place the papers on the desk, only to be interrupted.  
  
"Summarize, Agent. I have things to do."  
  
Agent Demario yanked the papers back quickly. He placed them at his side, not having to look at them, since he had memerized the results. "The plates on the car belong to a Heather Kenning. She does not live at that address, but apparently spent the night there. She did not return to the address we had on file until early this morning. The house she stayed at last night is mortgaged to a self employed networking consultant named Greg Knoll. We are attempting to get as much information on both of them as possible, in the situation that they...umm...may have an affiliation with...the...uhhh...actual target." He stuttered as the look his superior gave him whittled away his courage.  
  
"So this is not the right girl?" Savage's voice was icy, laced with anger.  
  
Demario began to sweat. "Uhhh...no sir. Not as far as we can tell. She hasn't demonstrated any of the qualities you described, nor has she associated with anyone even close to those you mentioned. Plus her background profile doesn't track with what you've told us. But we're looking! Twenty four hours a day, with three teams! We'll find her sir, I promise!"  
  
The congressman leaned back in his chair, presenting a less lethal appearance, but his voice was no less dangerous. "Time is a factor, Agent Demario. I must find the girl! I have not worked this hard, and given this many speeches, and kissed this much political ass, to fail now! This entire campaign will go straight to Hell, if we fail. And that is not a metaphor, Agent."  
  
Demario had to bite the inside of his lip to keep his bravery from fleeing straight out of him, but he needed to know more! "Sir, with all due respect. You have given us a vague physical description, at best, and an age range with possible behavioral traits and aquaintances, but no name and only a possible address, which has already proven incorrect. Sunnydale may not be L.A., but it's big enough. This will take time!" He could feel his courage slipping from him as he spoke. Savage's expression had darkened as he spoke. "Are you sure, sir, that there isn't anything else you can tell us?"  
  
The Congressman glared with barely controlled violence in his eyes. He sat still and didn't respond for some time. "I appreciate your honesty, Agent. I regret not being able to inform you further as to the girl's name or whereabouts. But if this was going to be easy, I would have done it myself. However, as long as you keep looking, I will see if there is anything I can...do...to help you along. Fair enough?" His expression told of merciless torture, if his question was not answered in the affirmative.  
  
Agent Demario tilted his head and pulled his sunglasses from his pocket. "Fair enough, sir. If that will be all?" He was dying to get out of there. His boss only nodded his head and went back to some paperwork on his desk. Demario turned on his heel and strode out the door.  
  
He had no more information than he had had when he first went in there, and he couldn't help the feeling of being in the Congressman's doghouse now, because of his questions. He had so many more, but he wanted to keep breathing. Not that the boss would kill him directly, but he had no doubt he would one day wake up at the bottom of some nameless stretch of deep water, if he kept pushing. The Congressman was known for his intelligence, not his patience. His followers and employees demonstrated remarkable loyalty. The kind of loyalty that was born out of fear, not respect or admiration. He hadn't been hired by the Congressman all that long ago, but he was already starting to see things like that, plain as day. He had no intention of squashing his promising career over a few stupid questions. So, if the boss wanted this girl, whoever she turned out to be, for whatever reason, he would find her. Without any more questions if he could. He realized, as he unlocked his car door, that curiosity probably did kill the cat. He just hoped that for this mission, he had nine lives.  
  
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As Demario exited, Congressman Savage went back to reading the reports he had been faxed on his current poll standings in some of the other cities of California. His eyes were drifting to San Diego when the pain hit him. White hot and searing as it always was, he bit down hard on his bottom lip to keep from screaming. His employees in the adjacent rooms couldn't hear him cry out in pain. They couldn't know that he was having a vision. They couldn't know he was being contacted again. They musn't find out. When the blood from his lip hit his tongue, it seemed to set off the things he was supposed to see.  
  
Swirling colors blurred his vision, whether his eyes were open or not. They changed directions and shades as he tried to make sense of them. After a moment, they calmed, and seemed to squish together to make an image. The Congressman's eyes were closed, but he blinked a couple of times out of habit, trying to make sense of the picture painfully swimming in his mind's eye. It was the girl! Blonde, small, pretty. He could make out things about her he had not been able to in any of his previous nightmarish visions. Her eyes, he could make out her eyes! Not much else, but it was more than he had seen before. He blinked again as the image of her skin shimmered and faded away. Her outline was still there, but it was filled with a darkness. A darkness that swirled and surged with life, only to be replaced again with her normal appearance. After a moment of this, her image faded away completely. The pain started to subside, only to be replaced by the other pain. The pain that made his head feel like it was going to explode, and made his ears ring, and made his eyes nearly bulge out of his head. The pain from the booming voice in his mind.  
  
It sounded angry, which only added to the base thrumming of it, that made him nearly pass out. The deep, gravely voice, could best be described as that of Death itself. If he was dying and Death was taking him away, this would be the voice it used. Or perhaps, the essence of nightmare. If his darkest, most horrible dreams came to him and spoke as a man, it would use this voice. As it built in fury, he had a passing thought, that Evil incarnate would shudder away from this sound.  
  
"You...have...not....found...the....girl."  
  
Savage thought of meekly stating that he had not, but if this voice was in his head, it surely knew the truth. Then he realized it had not been a question.  
  
"You reap....what I...sow. But your promise...has not been kept. I show you her face, but your feeble mind can not take all that I conjure for you. If it is not in your power, then our bargain is forfeit."  
  
He tried to respond, but as the first sounds came from his mouth, the voice hissed and sent a jolt of pain through him that nearly made his teeth explode.  
  
"This girl must be destroyed for our bargain to be complete. She, and all like her, stand in the way of my power. The power I need to grant you what you seek. You must kill her. The ritual. Kill her and all those to follow. None must stand against me. Past, present, or future. Now or ever. Kill them. The Slayers. Kill them all."  
  
The voice faded, as did the pain, but it had already taken it's toll on him. The Congressman slumped forward onto his desk. He slipped into unconciousness with a few strands of the pain filled words drifting around in his head. "The Slayers. Kill them all."  
  
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Buffy sat straight up in bed. She was sweating from head to toe and was breathing hard. She blinked several times to get the spots out her eyes that the abrupt sunlight from her window had caused. She glanced at her clock to see if she could go back to bed and try to have a happy dream. Unfortunately, the clock read ten thirty a.m. Her thoughts of happy dreams fled quickly from her mind as she bolted from under her covers. She opened her door and raced to Dawn's room. When she threw open the door, she saw no sign of her sister. "Dawn?" She called out hoping not to get a response. If she got a response it meant Dawn was terribly late for school. A problem that, despite their best efforts, she and her younger sibling had not been able to solve. Buffy turned towards the stairs, but jumped as a voice came from behind her.  
  
"It's ok Buffy," Tara said. She smiled unevenly at the surprised Slayer, as she stuck her head out the bathroom door. "We thought if you were sleeping in, you must need it. So we didn't bother you. But we got Dawn off to school, just fine, and on time."  
  
Buffy tried to smile, but instead just rubbed her eyes as she leaned against the nearest wall. "Thanks. Really. I guess I didn't even hear you guys. I was having sort of a bad dream. Must of been the THX variety." Of course, she couldn't tell her friend about Spike's unexpected drop-in.  
  
Tara smiled again. "It's no problem. We did it lots of times when you were-....ummm. I-I mean, what was your dream about?" She ducked back into the bathroom to both put up her toothbrush and hide her reddened face.  
  
Buffy didn't catch the slip and simply replied, "Dunno." She opened her eyes again and meandered towards her bedroom. "That's weird. I usually remember my dreams." She scrunched up her nose. "And my nightmares. Oh well, guess I got lucky this time."  
  
"Maybe we all did." Tara again emerged from the bathroom. "Your dreams have a tendency to hit a little to close to the truth sometimes." She caught the weird look from Buffy, and couldn't to anything to hide her blushing this time. "Or...or so I'm told."  
  
Buffy's expression went from weird to curious, before she realized she was being paranoid. "It's ok. Of all people, I should know my sleepy land usually doesn't include pretty flowers and cute kittens."  
  
"Oh! That reminds me. I have to go put some food in Miss Kitty Fantastico's bowl." Tara was two steps down the stairs before she turned and asked, "Are you gonna be down soon? I...I could have Willow cook you some breakfast."  
  
Buffy thought about it for only a moment. "No thanks, not really hungry. I think I'm just gonna have some juice or something."  
  
Tara turned to go. "Ok."  
  
"Oh, Tara?" Buffy stopped her before she got out of sight. "Thanks. For getting Dawn off to school and stuff." She returned the witches smile. "Someday you're gonna have to give me full details on how you pulled that one off!"  
  
As Buffy went into her room to grab some clothes to change into, she glanced out the window. A large black car was driving down the street, very slowly. It had tinted windows all around and no license plates, front or back. She would have thought about it more, but it turned a corner and drove out of sight. She turned to her closet, thinking no one in this town had any variety in car color anymore. After a few moments, she selected an outfit and closed her closet. She exited and closed her door behind her without another glance out the window. Had she looked out the window, she would have seen the same black car driving the other way up her street, just as slowly as before. In fact, it would not have been the only black car, glimpsed casually from a window, driving slowly down a street that day.  
  
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Xander rolled over in his bed, and flopped his arm over the spot, his sleep filled brain told him should have been where Anya was. When his arm felt nothing but cold pillow and not warm flesh, he cracked open an eyelid to look at the same spot. There was, in fact, nothing there but a pillow. He closed his eye and pondered this for a moment. Not that heavy thinking was involved, or ever was in his life, but he felt as though something was out of place. He rolled to his back and opened his eyes. He rubbed the sleep from them and then sat up slowly. "Anya?" No reponse. He glanced over at the clock and saw that it said he was an hour late for work. His pulse quickened for only a moment as he remembered he was on a day off. His construction company was currently looking for a new job, and his boss had told him to take it easy while they were idle.  
  
He pulled down the blanket and stood up. A stretch caught him just as he was searching around for his fiance. He grabbed his robe from the floor and walked to the kitchen. As he entered, he saw her sitting at the table, her head hunched down over something she was writing. He shuffled up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Whatcha doing, honey?"  
  
Anya jumped slightly at his touch. Her hand wiggled in the wrong direction and the bizarre letter she had been writing was ruined. "Xander! Look at what you did! Now I have to start all over!" She put the pen down and grabbed another wedding invitation.  
  
Xander leaned over and studied the supposedly ruined invitation. "Ok, I know it's been awhile since I slept in, but I didn't just wake up in the first grade did I?"  
  
Anya looked up at him quizzically before she glibbed, "Not unless you're the most well endowed first grader of all time."  
  
Xander shook his head. "Noooo. Thanks, but no, I mean that invitation. I can't read what it says. All the letters are all messed up and squiggly."  
  
She sighed and looked back at the piece of paper. "It's in demon. Of course you can't read it. I thought my other-worldly friends might like to have a more personalized invitation. You know, make them feel more welcome." She smiled at her first efforts, then crumpled it up, and set to work on the new one. "But don't bump me! This is hard to do with five fingers on your hand."  
  
Xander decieded to let that one go, before his mouth opened and some stupid question, that would end up getting him way more info than he wanted, came out. He walked over to the cubbard to get some cereal. "Well, write good sweety, 'cuz you're gonna have to make them feel welcome for the both of us." She paused in her writing. "Xander, we've been through this! I want some of my demon friends to come to the wedding! Why is that so hard for you? You have your family, so I want mine there too!" She stared angrily at his back waiting for a response.  
  
He didn't turn around, but he did go to the refrigerator, to get some milk. "I know my family's going to be there, An. That's why I think we already have enough demon's at the wedding." He grabbed a bowl, and mixed his two previous ingredients.  
  
"From what I've seen, your family doesn't qualify to be demons. Even fungus demons have more class than that. And less fungus." She rumpled up her nose as she thought about her experience that led to that statement. "Besides, you're the one who insisted we invite Spike. He's technically a demon and I don't here you complaining about him."  
  
Xander whirled around. "That's because Spike's.....Spike. You know how he is. If we didn't invite him, he'd probably just show up to drool over Buffy in her bride's maid dress, and screw everything up. I invited him so one of us with a big pointy stick can keep an eye on him." He met her gaze evenly, but when she raised her eyebrows and stuck out her bottom lip, he had to look away. "Ok, fine they can come to the wedding, but not the reception! I already know what my dad's gonna look like after a couple hours sitting next to the cash bar. I don't wanna imagine a bunch of inebriated demons!"  
  
Anya got up and walked to her husband-to-be, and put her arms around his waist. She layed her head down on his back. "Deal. Thank you, sweety. I know you're trying your best to make me happy. As a good future husband should, you know, besides contributing to the family bank account." She playfully began to slide her hands farther down his front. "So maybe I should do something to make you happy, well, and me too."  
  
At that, Xander spun around so fast, he nearly kept going. She helped stop him as he stuttered, "R-really? You mean it? Now?" His eyes lit up as she nodded her head seductivley. "Cool! 'Cuz, you know, I've got a really special name for that and everything!"  
  
Anya stopped at this revelation, and raised her eyebrows curiously. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah. Mornin' sex!" He smiled broadly as he grabbed her around the waist.  
  
Anya digested this, for a moment, before she could even form words to respond. "You know, sometimes I think bankruptcy is less scary than you." She let him start to lead her to the bedroom none the less.  
  
Xander's smile stayed in place until something struck him. "Actually, it's kinda good that you say that. Because if I fall into my family's usual life style, Chapter 11 isn't going to be just a stopping point in your latest book between chapters ten and twelve." He stopped when she stopped. Her look told him she wasn't amused. "I'm just kidding, An."  
  
She resumed her slow backwards walk towards the bedroom, but slapped him on the chest. "Xander Harris! You know I hate financial humor! Money isn't funny! It's...green...and comforting...and smells good...and buys me pretty things...and-," she couldn't finish, because her future groom was suddenly kissing her. 


End file.
